


Another Kind of Proposition

by electricsymphony



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, CEO Nicole Haught, Confident Nicole, Equals This Became Way Softer Than I Expected, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Overload of Fluff, Pining Waverly, Poor Waves In Love With Her Best Friend, Quarantine Makes Me Sappy I Suppose, Service Top Waverly Earp, Techie Waverly, This Is Incredibly Sappy Be Forewarned, With a Dash of Smut, don't worry it ends well, i have deemed this a thing, tech!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 08:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23848540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricsymphony/pseuds/electricsymphony
Summary: Waverly Earp made Nicole Haught a custom GameBoy Advance when she was 11 years old, created software for her to develop and record soccer plays and statistics in high school and built her a computer when she became the acting CEO for her co - founded company HJL that Waverly then ends up working at.OR, the one where CEO!Nicole and TechProdigy!Waves drown us all in so much friends - to - lovers sappy smut that it could probably be a tree in Vermont.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 13
Kudos: 144





	Another Kind of Proposition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromthechaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthechaos/gifts).



> This was 110 % written for fromthechaos, and borne from a conversation about buying computer monitors and a joke that I was so passionately obsessed with resolution quality that I had to have a technology kink. Which, naturally, leads to a consensus that I must write WE smut about it. (This was like two years ago, and I promised her that if I ever got a job at Best Buy Mobile, we'd celebrate by me writing this fic. I got that job 8 months ago ... better late than never?)
> 
> Serious note, though, thank you to fromthechaos for putting up with my unrelenting and unhealthy perfectionism and still supporting me anyway, you're a great friend.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope you're all healthy, safe and staying sane. This is definitely a time where we all need a heavy dose of escapism to pull us through it, and I hope I can contribute even a little to that need for some of you. <3

After two painstaking months of preparation, instructional pamphlets and the most intensely giddy desire to see those incredible dimples and fiery warm disposition directed straight at her, eleven-year old Waverly Earp put down her screwdriver, wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and beamed. Her Uncle Curtis slid of a plate of gingersnap cookies down their kitchen table and made a gruff noise of approval, a quirk of his lips that bent his ash grey mustache into something uniquely charming.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Waverly asked, her voice timid and small, but her posture as confident as the older man had ever seen it.

He took a gingersnap for himself and popped it in his mouth with a small smile. “I think she’ll love it, kid.”

And so it held that Nicole received for Christmas that year her first (and most certainly not last) ‘Waverly Earp Original’ ™ modified tech – a custom shell and backlit mod for her GameBoy Advance.

The fight to cultivate and maintain her own individual, Wynonna - free friendship with Nicole was a hard fought war for Waverly, full of painful losses and quick, stolen moments –

And then Nicole shoved Champ Hardy against a row of lockers in 4th grade and so also began years of a tumultuous road towards understanding why that stupid dope grin made Waverly want to sing far too many cheesy pop ballads within the well-insulated walls of her cramped bathroom. 

\---

“C-34,” was the only quick, terse instruction she was given when she walked into work that day – Colin wasn’t a particularly chatty guy, and she’d given up getting a smile somewhere in between ‘Banana Nut Muffin’ day and the disaster that was Slip ‘n Slide Team Building.

And normally, his standoffish bullshit was fine. He’d bark a number, hand her the keys, and slink away god knows where and she’d laugh it off and hope he had something fun to go home to later, because that’s just the attitude she lived by.

Today, though – today was an altogether different story.

Because yesterday Wynonna had decided that come hell or high ~~water~~ (whiskey), she was going to up her record on their ‘BTVS Drinking Game’ from two seasons to three, and while Waverly totally enjoyed seeing her victorious sister so elated, she could’ve done without the record – breaking hammerhead hangover that followed.

“Go get up and at the boss, wunderkid. Scurry on up to kiss Captain Red’s damn fine ass, yeah?”

Waverly Earp was normally fairly diplomatic towards dipwads, but this was one subject everyone knew not to broach with her – well, she _thought_ everyone knew.

Her smile was sickly sweet, pure poison with a cherry sugar façade – “Our bosses’ body is completely outside of your concern, don’t you think, Col?”

His laugh was toxic – a thing born of bitterness and a whole heap of jealousy. “You’re pretty high on yourself, Earp – y’know, you’re not in the Valley right now, not yet – right now, you’re at HJL, and here, you’re just a tech with a well and whipped boss and a whole fuck ton of nepotism. Not all of us are as good at the brown-nose routine.”

Pushing past him, smile still achingly sweet and just a hair too wide for authenticity, she put on her best Wynonna Earp smirk, “I think you’ll find there’s quite a few things the rest of you aren’t so good at, and very little of it has anything to do with your tech.” With a dangerously toothy grin, more of spite than levity, she left with nothing but a simple jab – “Have a great time explaining Gmail to Scully for the third time this week."

Walking down the corridor to the elevators, the goofy grin on her face reflected off the mirrored walls with exuberance and _accomplishment_ \-- the intense rush of adrenaline she always got from defending Nicole spreading through her body, delightful shivers from her spine to her toes. Granted, it was a little more intimate than made sense, seeing as it felt rather like an protective, enraged girlfriend more than a helpful _friend_ , but it was also … addicting, _powerful_ . Intrinsically, undeniably _right_.

And upon having her gaze fall on the bright, demanding ‘Haught - Jackson Laboratory’ sign at the edge of her vision, she felt another rush of pleasure -- not for her, but for _Nicole_ , for the most incredible and most accomplished 27 year old woman on the planet -- because regardless of the fact that Waverly had never kissed her, had never felt her body shake and quiver beneath her, had never ran her desperate fingers through soft, flame - red hair, Nicole Haught was still _her_ person. And god only knows _Waverly_ had never belonged to anyone else the way she belonged to her best friend. 

\---

Nicole was, by and large, one of the neatest and most organized people Waverly had ever met, and almost every square inch of her office and her file cabinets were almost comically indicative of this and it was so unnaturally _impressive_ that it made Waverly’s weak, organized heart swoon -- (and that was _absolutely_ saying something, seeing as she herself had eight color - coordinated tabbed binders depicting not only annotations of tiny, minute details in every code she wrote, but also extensive rules and regulations for coding languages from Python to C++ that she could probably straight - up sell for how well they’re laid out) -- but if we're ranking fatal flaws like weaknesses in a video game, Waverly Earp’s final KO would certainly be looking far too narrowly at everything she loved in other people to focus even slightly on herself.

And she loved very few more than Nicole Haught, although she struggled for a long time with the _form_ of that love.

Watching the coffee cup in Nicole’s hands teeter unsteadily left and right as she paced made her lips dry and her heart flip, visceral and heavy, and it was stupidly and pathetically _entrancing_ to watch the flustered woman sort through her thoughts with kinetic energy so frantic it could probably generate a magnetic field all its own. Sometimes she thinks the sight of it damn near served more effectively to bolster her blood cells than even _oxygen_. 

“Is that your fourth cup, Nic? ‘Cause you know you lose the plot after the 3rd.”

There’s a sharp gasp before Nicole turns around, but her surprise has a quick turn around rate when she sees Waverly standing in the juncture of the door, grin somewhat wild (and entirely unrestrained), but her feet almost seeming to float with their nervous bouncing.

“Honestly, Waves, the merger that I was put on with DoubleTime is making me sweat more in one day than I usually do in a year -- and I’m kind of a fitness junkie, y’know, so …” she trailed off with that uniquely Nicole flair -- (the one that was as equally heartening and _light_ as it was cocky and assuming, and damn did Waverly crave it, except hand to god it kept her up more nights than she’s willing to ever say) -- and oh Waverly _definitely_ knew, the younger girl was so flustered and red at the mere image of how sweaty Nic often got at the office gym -- (and one _mere_ image is misleading, she could have a fucking mental scrapbook if she wanted) -- that she turned away to fiddle with some nonexistent tear in her messenger bag, none too subtly at that. 

“I brought you something that might soothe the itch a little,” she said with a more calm, steady tone of voice after calming the ridiculous beat of her heart at the vivid image behind her eyes, “But you only get it if you put down the coffee,” she proffered with a wink, going on the offense and throwing out a flirt for a flirt. Waverly Earp was notoriously bad at flirting -- (quite literally _notorious_ , as she was subject to those mostly harmless jokes at least three times a week) -- with every person on earth _except_ Nicole. (Part of her thinks she’s just so reluctant to give anyone else what she only wants to give to Nicole that her subconscious halts any possibility for it, but she’s sure as hell not offering that up as a rebuttal.)

“Wave, a sight for sore eyes doesn’t even begin to describe how much just seeing you soothes that for me on a daily basis -- ” the curve of her lips turn a little bashful, and that weird possessive flutter Waverly hates as much as she loves beats wildly in her chest, a sure, steadfast and _delicious_ reminder that she’s only seen that level of bashfulness from assured Nicole when it’s directed at _her_. 

She’s not sure she’s ever tasted anything, tangible or otherwise, that even compares.

“But I hope it’s a good one,” she continues, that glimpse of bashfulness receding slightly, overtaken by pure, unmasked playfulness -- “Because in all honesty, this isn’t my fourth, it’s my fifth and I’m hanging by a thread here so I could use some good news from my favorite life - raft.”

Waverly beams, the silly little nickname (one of many) touching on something she doesn’t know how to articulate in even the simplest of terms -- maybe because it’s so intrinsically aligned to her specific idea of happiness that it’s basically indistinguishable? -- and while their wide array of cute nicknames makes Wynonna mimic varying gestures of sickness on somewhat of a daily basis, it is also actual _fuel_ for the way Waverly’s feet skip right off the ground sometimes.

“C - 34, straight off the presses, red - eyed overnight from DoubleTime, it’s a straight beauty, lemme tell ya, I’d definitely take it to dinner -- ” Waverly jokes with a goofy grin, exuberant and just a _little_ coy.

“Waverly Earp,” she says as she walks closer, strong and solid, and in that gritty, deep tone of voice she uses that’s basically just seduction and chocolate and pure back - country charm wrapped in the reddest, warmest ( _hottest_ ) blanket imaginable and that damn near sends Waverly to _space_ sometimes -- “You are a freakin _angel_.”

And she kisses her cheek, firm and gentle and _promising_ \-- and there’s a point in the skip of her breath where Waverly fears she’s never going to breathe again.

“C’mere,” Nicole beckons her to follow as she makes a sharp turn back towards her desk, the tone commanding but also underlying nerves in a way that is so impossible that it’s just _Nicole_ , because those are basically synonyms anyway in the filing cabinet that is Waverly’s mind, and she can’t exactly do anything but comply. She wouldn’t try if she could. “Do you want to hear about the program? It might do me some good to spell it out vocally and see if it triggers some ideas. Best way to know something is to teach something, right?”

“The first time I told you that was tutoring 11th grade Calculus, right?”

“I never forgot it -- ” Nicole hummed in assent, “It’s good advice, I’ve given it a couple times to new starts here over the past few years.”

“Did you really? Advice you got from _me_?” She asks, her voice breaking ever so slightly at the end, a deep - seeded worry that Nicole is probably joking.

“Are you kidding, Waves? _Waverly Earp Wisdom_ ™, that shit’ll be worth ten times this company’s weight in _gold_ someday.”

She laughs, relieved to hear the genuine nature of Nicole’s tone, but utterly fucking terrified on the flipside of even _beginning_ to live up to that.

“You flatter me too much.” 

Nicole’s voice is so pure here, so completely _raw_ that if Waverly were still standing and not absentmindedly drumming the arms of Nicole’s desk chair, she probably would’ve stumbled on air -- “Everyone else flatters you too _little_ , I’m happy to pick up the slack -- with interest.”

She stutters out the question, more than a little overwhelmed -- “Wh -- what’d you want to show me about the program, then?” Her deflection is probably the thinnest and most pathetic thing that’s ever come out of Waverly’s mouth, but god knows it doesn’t drop that gorgeous smile from Nicole’s face even an inch -- if anything, it strengthens it. 

As she snakes her arms around Waverly’s waist to bring up the files on her computer, the touch is raw and _electric_ \-- as if Waverly’s spinal cord has been replaced with coil wire that’s pumping shock waves through her veins. “You’re kind of familiar with DoubleTime’s previous app, right?” Nicole asks, breath hot on the shell of her ear, as if the woman didn’t already know that Waverly had babbled at least nine different times about the ingenuity of the app while shoveling Chinese Food in her mouth not five feet away on Nicole’s gorgeous white Chesterfield sofa.

“Well, I think you’re going to like this even a little more, because as Wynonna likes to point out, you’re a resolution quality whore,” Nicole teases, bright and airy and _refreshing_ \--

“She’s just pissy that I refuse to watch movies on putlocker because the quality is disgusting,” Waverly mumbles under her breath, annoyed at the mere thought of it.

“They’re _free_ movies, Waves -- ” Nicole counters, most likely (since she’s far from antagonizing) just to get that beet - red face of indignation as Waverly becomes far too passionate in defense of it, and oh, sweet victory --

“It’s disrespectful to the original art!” She huffs, only half - serious because she knows riling her up riles _Nicole_ up and who is she to say no?

“You’re enormously cute,” Nicole says on a sigh, not laced with annoyance or irritation but full to the brim with pleased admiration.

“And you’re enormously _mean_ ,” was her only response, shifting slightly to fake offense.

“Rules of the game, Waves,” she brushed her off with a smirk, “But really, you’re gonna like this.”

Waverly focuses back on the screen instead of Nicole -- with much difficulty, granted -- and she _loved_ computers, especially this one seeing as she built it as Nicole’s inauguration to acting CEO a few years ago.

“It’s video resolution upscaling AI, and before you say that’s been done 3,000 times over, just look at it first, and we’re not talking run of the mill 4K upscaling on your Blu - Ray player, we’re talking 8K practically lossless Adobe - style magnification for mass cheap consumption -- ” and the screen she pulls up is utterly breathtaking, the loss quality almost nonexistent and the sharpness maybe even sharper than Nicole’s shark - grin when she successfully hustles truckers at pool, “and tell me this isn’t special.”

It’s an enormous effort for Waverly not to sputter out “ _You’re_ special” or, worse, “Well, you sure know how to dirty talk a girl, Miss Haught” -- because jesus, she’s more than a little turned on by Nic’s words and that’s as weird as it is amazing.

And as Waverly’s eyes dart through all the files, notes and tiny, minute details of the AI displayed on Nicole’s second screen, her eyes widening in rapt and unapologetic awe, she misses the similarly awestruck expression on Nicole’s face as she stares at the woman who had stolen much more in the last twenty years than just the office chair she sat on.

“This might be one of the most beautiful video softwares I’ve ever seen,” Waverly breathes out, still oblivious to Nicole’s stare.

“I think you might be the most beautiful _woman_ I’ve ever seen period.”

And Waverly’s focus is almost violently whipped back into reality, staring astounded at Nicole’s awestruck face -- “What?!”

Nicole starts suddenly, her words catching up to her -- “What?”

“You said -- ”

And Nicole cuts her off with a sharp, firm, just a little _desperate_ kiss that’s also somehow as steady and gentle as Nicole’s fingers feel when she’s rubbing the tension off Waverly’s shoulders, and it’s so so absurdly _right_ that she feels like the biggest moron in the world when she pulls back, worry in her eyes, and says, “Are you sure about this? We’ve … this has been … ” a small part of her wants to say ‘a long time coming’ but that tastes a little presumptuous on her tongue and she never wants to be that towards Nicole -- 

“Can I show you something, Waves?”

The abrupt question throws her for a loop, but she nods that yes, of course, because Nicole could probably want to show her the inside of an erupting volcano and she’d walk straight in without question.

She pulls something from the left side of the desk drawer and Waverly’s mind goes blank when she sees it. Nicole hastens to explain, bashful and nervous once again, _intoxicating_ . “I know I told you that I lost it when you asked what happened to it but I just … didn’t know how to explain that I’d kept it, even though it doesn’t work anymore, it seemed weird and creepy and kind of stalkerish in a way, but …” Waverly’s mind is still dissociated from her consciousness, staring so shell-shocked at the custom Gameboy Advance she’d made for Nicole a lifetime ago that she can barely see _color_ , but Nicole’s next words definitely seep through -- “It’s never been anyone but you, Waverly, not since I was probably twelve years old.”

And that’s that, clearly, because she doesn’t have another thought in her mind except maybe “You too” but she doesn’t vocalize it because Nicole’s lips are wet and wanting and _delicious_ and Waverly bites at them like she’s claiming a right -- like she’s performing a show, like she owes something to that ten year old girl that would do literally _anything_ to have Nicole Haught’s eyes steady on her and not on Rosita Bustillos after she scored the clinch goal in their school’s soccer final. Like she’s got something to prove -- and Nicole _lets_ her. The way the woman arches into her touch is with such unfeasible _surrender_ that the breath in her lungs gasps out in more of an animal keen than an actual human sound.

Nicole Haught doesn’t surrender to anyone, for fuck's sake. She commands a board of old, set in their ways men on a day to day basis without a flinch of fear or anxiety, she bends negotiations to her will with barely a snap of her finger, she managed to befriend a hostile and hard to please 11 year old Wynonna Earp with little effort at all beyond that inexplicable dark - red charm and she did it all with an easy smile and charismatic eyes and Waverly knows she’s never commanded _anything_ like that, never could, never would.

Except here she is, swallowing the desperate, unbridled, passionate pleas that bubble from Nicole’s throat -- messy and wild and honest and the best kind of overwhelming Waverly has ever felt, her fingers threading through soft, flame - red hair, the sinful curve of Nicole’s body shaking and quivering underneath her, and there’s no other way to say it --

“I love you so much, please god let me take you right now, I’m -- ” her strangled moan is more of a cry but she pushes past it, determined to be something more than that, “Please let me fuck you, it’s all I’ve wanted.”

Nicole grabs her by the shoulders, kisses her with a little filth, a lot of passion and just as much desperation -- “I love you too, Waves, god please do.”

“The desk …” she breathes out in some sudden, deep - seeded remembrance, “I want to take you on the desk, it’s …” she stops, momentarily flushed both from the steel and the heat of Nicole’s touch as well as the unwanted embarrassment at her words, but she rolls her shoulders, picks her head up off the warmth of Nicole’s chest and declares, “It’s what I’ve wanted since the very first time we ate lunch in here.”

“I know,” Nicole laughs, her voice so low, dark and _visceral_ that it makes the slick wetness on Waverly’s thighs clench together just that delicious bit more. “Your eyes are probably the most expressive I’ve ever seen, Waves, and you aren’t the most subtle person I know. I want it too.”

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” she warns, her voice laced with fake irritation but the deep contentment and joy in her stomach unrivaled by anything she’s experienced before.

“Come and get it,” Nicole teases, a helpful challenge and a breathtaking encouragement on the same breath and god if that’s not a damn near dictionary definition of the person Nicole Haught is.

“You got it, boss,” Waverly says as she, unceremoniously, without poise, grace or a single ounce of forethought -- (which, she’ll be honest, feels utterly exhilarating to the ‘Three - Days Ahead’ Neurotic Planner she claims to be) -- rips the buttons off Nic’s button - down shirt in a frantic effort to get it off her shoulders on the floor where it belongs in this moment and god, the stars she sees behind her eyes and the shiver down her spine as Nicole hikes her off the chair swiftly and easily to perch on the desk, the muscles and tendons in her arms flexing with the effort and she’s near salivating at the thought as she grasps Nicole's ( _admittedly incredible_ ) ass for support and stability, but in a frantic attempt to maintain her goal she swallows a heavy dose of desire at Nicole’s strength and uses her legs wrapped around Nicole’s center to flip them over so she’s staring directly at her best friend’s slightly startled expression, but the absolute lust and intention in her eyes is anything but nervous. “I thought I asked you if I could _take_ you?” 

Her legs pinned against the desk, hands firmly grasping at the wood for support and more smug in a vulnerable position than she has any right to be, Nicole actually winked at her -- “And I said _come and get it.”_

With no further intention to stall in the name of foreplay -- let’s be honest, at least the last ten years of their lives were nothing but a tornado of foreplay -- and a desperate prayer to every God she knew (which, given her weird preoccupation with mythology was _a lot,_ and surely _one_ of them had to feel empathy for her, right?) -- she dove in, literally and figuratively, headfirst into the most intoxicating abyss she’d ever faced, jumping with absolute glee despite knowing nothing of what lay ahead.

She began unbuckling Nic’s pants and pursuing a relentless assault with sticky fingers and a full - to - burst desire to please, the sounds of keening and moaning and incomprehensible gibberish tickling against the strands of her hair and almost buckling her knees. The sloppy whispers and pleas of “God, you’re so fucking beautiful …” and “more, faster, please, just you…” delivered on shaky and shallow breaths were counter-intuitively the most divine and the most depraved sounds Waverly had ever heard, and she wanted to hear nothing but for the rest of her life.

The instinctual desire to serve, to please, to _excite_ was so unexpectedly overwhelming, a tide of sin and sentiment that sent Waverly’s head spinning -- apparently she was a service top, who knew? -- with an adulation so intense it was almost unnerving.

(But there was _nothing_ unnerving about Nicole -- every single quirk of her lips was a shining beacon she couldn’t view as anything but pure.)

Buried three fingers deep in Nicole, a place she’d never thought she’d be, there was more than one glimmer of tear in her eye -- and she swallowed it back, rough and raw, the intensity of emotion almost rocking her backwards because it was all so _much --_ she wanted to lap at it, suck it dry and coat her tongue with it so she’d never lose the taste, so she’d never feel as inadequate as she used to, so she could covet and hoard Nicole’s tangible and solid reminder that she was worth _more_ , had been from the start. Waverly curled her fingers, up and up, firm and stretching, hips bucking of their own volition just from the sheer magnitude of lust that invaded her body at Nicole’s hungry, visceral, _worshiping_ stare.

“Come for me, Nicky, please …” Waverly breathed in adoration, in astonishment, in _reverence_.

And she did, slumping against Waverly’s cradling hand, she did not give any credence to monitoring her expression, the glint of awe and fascination clear and crisp. (They were far too entrenched in this to be even _capable_ of scaring each other off at this point.) 

“I love you, Nic, I love you so damn much,” she stressed, needing Nicole to understand, to know, to never doubt in any shape or form from here to eternity.

“You’re amazing,” Nicole hummed, her brain still a little fuzzy, knocked sideways by the sheer surprise of it all, “I’m so sorry it took me a thousand years to get here. I wanted -- I wanted you to have the best things, I didn’t know if I --”

She interrupted, smooth and certain, “There is _no one_ more capable of bringing the best to my life than you.”

“I --” Nicole sat now, her hair as disheveled and mussed as her train of thought, but she took a deep, calming breath because to her, nothing was more important than this woman and her happiness -- “I’d like to tell you a proposition I have.”

“Ooh, what kind?” Waverly asked, her smile all filth and insinuation.

“No, Waves, not that kind --” Nicole laughed, “About DoubleTime.”

“Ah,” she smiled even wider now with an overly gesticulated wink, “Business & Technology Hour, talk dirty to me, Nic.”

The boisterous laugh that followed damn near lit her heart on fire, deep and rich and _thick_ with passion. “It’s an incredible software, as you’ve of course seen, but it’s beta and there’s quirks, bug fixes, really -- they want to get the quality loss way down so they can fix kinks and lower the price for further market appeal.”

“Makes sense,” Waverly said slowly, uncertain where this line of thinking was headed -- “Do you want me to find someone they can contract? If I can take a look at the code, I can get an idea who might be able to lend some of their strengths to it, but they’d probably want me to sign a disclosure? When do they need someone by, that meeting you have with Travers on Friday, I could …”

“Waverly, I want to present them with _you_. I want you to come to the Friday meeting with me, we can draft out a plan to present and we can go through the code together so you can get some good ideas to impress them with, right now they are a few red - tape kinks away from signing to implement with Adobe and they won’t seal the deal until they get a bug - free code, and I could probably wrangle you 5 or 8 % of the company if I can convince them the deal with Adobe hinges on you --”

\-- “What?”

Nicole’s eyebrows furrowed -- “What what?”

Waverly’s voice was a squeak, as if she’d missed every word Nicole said after ‘you’. “Me?”

"Waves, I know you have a hard time seeing how amazing what you can do _is_ , but I need you to trust _me_ when I say that I have zero doubts, less than zero if it were possible, that what you could do for them would blow them out of the damn water.”

Waverly’s lips turned in wry amusement -- “Emotional manipulation is a very immoral practice, y’know, Miss Haught.”

“Not more immoral than what you just did to me on that desk.”

“Nic!”

“Seriously, Waves,” she took her hands and squeezed, comfort and encouragement in physical form. “Your success and your happiness is worth _anything_ to me, morality be damned.” 

“Are you -- ” Her chest was tight but her heart was so thrilled to the point of physical shockwaves that she felt almost _dizzy_ , but maybe … maybe some of it was _good_ anxiety, a helpful one. She knew such a thing existed, but god knows she’d never experienced anything that felt like this.

“Am I … ?” Nicole teased back with an affectionate smirk. 

“Well, I was going to say ‘Are you serious?’ but I feel pretty positive that’ll afford me an eye roll, so I’ll just instead say that you’re _incredible_.”

“Much better,” Nicole agreed, beckoning Waverly to join her on the couch, tucking the smaller woman’s head under the crook of her arm, beaming down at her with unfiltered fondness. 

“ _This_ is much better,” Waverly corrects, snuggling further into the embrace -- “ _Us_ , like this. Being here like this with you. Cuddling on this couch instead of having lunch on it, not that I’m not suggesting we stop doing that, tradition is tradition!” she catches herself and adds on a rush. “Maybe just with a lot more kissing now,” she suggests, smile coy as all get out and an impish little eyebrow raise, “Only took us twenty odd years since I bulldozed you on a playground, eh?”

“Mhm,” Nicole agrees, her mischievous smirk giving Waverly pause -- “Chubby toddler Waves was super freakin cute.”

Affronted and downright _betrayed_ , Waverly scoffs, “Oh come off it, god knows you were way more awkward than me, with the Eliza Thornberry hair and those stupid clunky glasses the Dursley’s would’ve deemed too ugly to buy for Harry Potter.”

“That’s cold, Waves.”

She giggled against Nicole’s chest, contentment burrowing like sunlight. “That’s the game, baby," she reiterated Nicole's earlier words with a wink.

Nicole lifted her head somewhat, gazing down at her -- “ _Baby_?”

Waverly flushed a little, embarrassed at her presumption, “Oh, uh -- if that’s okay, if I say it sometimes?” She flounders on the last note of the tone, rising with trepidation.

Nicole looks her square in the eyes, and the glint in her eyes is _unreal_ \-- “Waves, the only thing that won’t be okay is if you ever _stop_ saying it.”

“I’m definitely game for that,” she beamed, excited and eager down to her very bones.

“Well, are you game for _this_ ?” Nicole asks, the innuendo so crisp and sharp, delivered on a dagger - sharp grin and with swagger and confidence that could make women _kneel_ \-- and suddenly, Waverly found herself flush against the couch with a far too cocky Nicole situated between her legs.

And as she lowered her face to taste at trimmed, wet curls, Waverly bucked in sheer anticipation -- “As you said, us having lunch on this couch is a tradition. You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging after all that, did you love?”

“No,” she said, Nicole’s use of a new, intimate, _perfect_ nickname that Wynonna will absolutely despise is thick in the back of Waverly’s throat and she _adores_ it -- “I know you’d never leave me hanging.”

**Author's Note:**

> So much sap, it's gonna drown us all, run for your lives!
> 
> I love this fandom, keep rocking on Earpers. <3


End file.
